Speechless
by QueenOfCitrus
Summary: GinHitsu (of sorts): Gin does not have to speak - he only has to watch, smell the blood, feel the other's pain. And decide. Rated M for non-con themes. One-shot.


**_A/N: The strange ways my brain works... _**

**_Contains non-con and strange stuff. You've been warned._**

* * *

_Speechless_

The ring of arrancar was tight and thick – a curious congregation that, had it not been for the sounds coming from its center – may not have peaked Gin's interest at all. For a little while, even with the suspicion of what was going on prodding repeatedly at his mind, he didn't make a move to approach the circle, just standing a few meters away and watching the walls of figures sway and shake in their laughter and grunting and sneers. Eventually, in a manner that clearly showed that boredom was the sole reason why he was doing this, he approached the group, smiling his dangerous, wide smile as the creatures before him sharply pulled away to let him through to the front.

The scene was exactly as he had anticipated.

The pile of torn clothes near his feet was the very first thing he regarded as he emerged to the inner contour of the ring. His eyes followed the path of ripped fabric, some white, some black, until they reached the center of the stage and the two figures, one large, powerful and rocking into the second, that was so small and fragile in comparison that their difference alone made spectacle sickening to watch. At first the show did not register properly in Gin's head; though he did see, he did hear - the bruises and cuts on the victim's body, the unending struggle still refusing to die even after undergoing the torture at least three times in a row, the hateful screams and cursing, now so hoarse and broken that the voice was barely recognizable. Toushiro was naked – his pale limbs and lithe torso exposed to the hundreds of hungry eyes watching him, but even in his nudity, even when he was being violated in the worst way imaginable, somehow the bareness of his flesh was nowhere as shameful as his captors had intended it to be. In a way, Gin figured even the rapist knew he was not succeeding in driving through the psychological damage as deeply as the spectators expected him to: hence, his movements were erratic. He was in a hurry to finish. Already a few of the arrancar were standing to the side, some with split lips, bitemarks, others even having suffered a black eye. Toushiro had all of it: he had more purple and red covering his face, body, thighs and hips, than he had any undamaged skin left. Two of his fingers were losing colour in a mildly distressing way.

And yet he wouldn't stop fighting. The savage, hateful look on his face was what seemed to unsettle the crowd. They couldn't understand what they were doing wrong – why wasn't the boy falling apart? Why hadn't he yet crumbled like they'd intended him to?

The next arrancar had something else in mind. He was big and heavy, and he crushed the boy face first onto the ground with little effort. The scream that ripped from Toushiro's lips when he was thrust into for an umpteenth time stirred Gin's insides in an unfamiliar manner: his eyes refused to be drawn to the blood and cum between the child's legs, he was only watching the former captain's face as it crumpled in pain, baring lines of clenched teeth that miraculously hadn't been knocked out yet. Gin could tell he was expecting similar treatment – to be fucked like an animal and left alone for the next to take him in the same grotesque fashion. But this time the fast, eager pace did not come – the arrancar was taking his sweet time thrusting in and out of the boy's behind and no matter how much he struggled, Toushiro could hardly budge from where he was pressed under the bigger body. Gin could see in his eyes that he was feeling everything, every single push and withdraw for the very first time. Until now, through the pain, the blood, the punches, the broken fingers and scratches, his genius brain had been blocking out the true meaning of the experience. Now that he couldn't really move, now that he had to go through it so languidly, deliberately, process the laughter, the wet sound of the alien body sliding into his own and the hot, rancid breath on his cheek, something inside him seemed to bend. His features softened and his mouth opened in a pained moan as his hand clawed useless against the floor.

"Stop, _stop_!" the sound of that howl alone seemed to make a wave of excitement pass through the bunch of spectators. This was what they had been waiting for. This was the shattering they had been expecting to witness. "Goddammit, stop it _now_!"

And then, just like that, helplessness, realization, despair, it all collapsed down on him like a pile of rocks and he burst into soft sobs, his body slowly growing limp under the invasion. He tried again to buck the man off him, but it was no use and – before all – he understood that he was too weak to succeed. Then the tears started coming, softly, in hot, heavy lines that drew furrows across his battered face and shrank him into the floor, and made him small, tiny, insignificant.

It kept going for a long time. It took a while for the arrancar to climax and by the time he did, Gin's body was tense, more tense than he thought it was till he felt somebody by his side take a step towards the center to take the other's place. That's when Gin's arm shot up, blocking his path, and Shinso hummed threateningly in her sheath, the whisper of a blade that loved, expected, devoured the taste of death.

The crowd grew still. Gin didn't think Toushiro had even realized anything was happening. He was still hiccupping gently on the ground where he'd been left in his own blood and somebody else's cum. Gin walked to him fluidly and soundlessly, bending down to grab his hair in his fist and drag the boy up to his knees.

"What-" finding himself in front of the traitor, Toushiro seemed to grow awfully still for a moment. Then pain in his scalp hadn't yet become too palpable, and he stared up at Gin, holding the red searing gaze for half a minute before he realized he was facing the man's crotch. "No, _no_!" His hands flew to push uselessly at Gin's hips, the renewed fight now closely related to fear as he tried to move away from the other. His mouth hadn't been violated yet, Gin realized, and his brow arched up curiously as he saw the tears come again, this time bringing back some of the ferocious, resentful stubbornness Toushiro was so famous with. "Don't you fucking _dare_! Get away from me, get away, you filthy-… I _hate_ you! I hate you, _damn it_, I'd rather-"

When Ichimaru let go of the boy's hair, Toushiro almost collapsed back on the floor. Luckily, Gin did not give him enough time to think. He pushed the white upper robe off his shoulders and before anyone could figure out what he was doing, he wrapped it around the tenth captain's shoulders, concealing him from the hungry eyes of the crowd. The boy's breath was coming out in gasps and hiccups, and his surprise was mixed with fright when he instinctively reached to pull the hems of the fabric tighter around him.

"What do you want?"

They stood like that for a moment – traitor and captive – and then Gin bent down and easily scooped up the child in his arms. There was a roar of displeasure behind him as he made his way out of the circle with Toushiro against his chest, but all he really had to do was let his reiatsu give a warning flare and the growls and shouts died out.

Gin's mind was a little fuzzy – all he could feel was the shaking body in his arms and the pain and strength and apprehension oozing off it. The smell of it, of blood above all, and innocence, made his cock twitch. He reproached himself for it, inwardly of course. He did not think he would get any relief for a very long time.


End file.
